


***** Release

by Rawrbin



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dark, Lazarus Pit Madness, M/M, Rape, Revenge, Same Age Robins AU, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26675551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawrbin/pseuds/Rawrbin
Summary: Dickie’s handling surveillance because Jason can’t look at them. Just the sight of the Batman and that little shit he had replaced them with would flare the anger inside him enough to put a bullet through the kid's skull long-range, and as much as he’d love to take him out they have a plan. A plan he needs to stick to.It’s not enough just to shoot the replacement. Bruce needs to pay. The Joker had killed them. Fuckingkilledthem. And what does Bruce do? He lets the psychotic bastard live - in a nice cushy Arkham cell counting the days until he can break out again. Why should it matter to Batman if the Joker offs a Robin or two after all. They’re obviously replaceable.-Same-age Robins AU. Pit-mad Jason and Dick come back to Gotham to take revenge on their former mentor and the new Robin he has replaced them with.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Tim Drake
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

“You got eyes on ‘em?” 

Jason takes a long drag from his cigarette, then taps a bit of ash out near Dickie’s boot while he waits for his reply. His red helmet is beside him where he’s sitting hidden low behind the rooftop’s half wall. If the Bat heads their way he’ll be able to get it back on quickly enough to avoid being seen. He just really needs a cig right now. He takes another drag. 

“They’re still inside,” Dick's filtered voice replies from his stance against the wall. Unlike Jason he’s got his helmet on, using the binocular enhancements to observe the towering Wayne Enterprises skyscraper two blocks away. The Batman is in there trying to stop a robbery of some sorts. And he isn’t alone. 

Dickie’s handling surveillance because Jason can’t look at them. Just the sight of the Batman and that little shit he had _replaced_ them with would flare the anger inside him enough to put a bullet through the kid's skull long range, and as much as he’d love to take him out they have a plan. A plan he needs to stick to. 

It’s not enough just to shoot the replacement. Bruce needs to pay. The Joker had killed them. Fucking _killed_ them. And what does Bruce do? He lets the psychotic bastard _live -_ in a nice cushy Arkham cell counting the days until he can break out again. 

Why should it matter to Batman if the Joker offs a Robin or two after all. They’re obviously replaceable, judging from the brightly clad kid trailing him over the rooftops these days. 

_“In my colors! My family's fucking colors! Robin was my name damnit! My mother gave me that name. He had no right!”_ Dickie had had a conniption the first time they’d spotted the new kid. It hurt but it wasn't _surprising_ that Bruce had continued using Robin. When Jason had joined the team at the tender age of twelve he hadn’t gotten to choose his own name or outfit either. _Two Robins are better than one_ , or some other dumbass strategy Batman had thought up. He didn’t complain at the time; he’d been happy just to be off the streets and elated to become part of that dynamic duo that secretly turned into a trio. He and Dickie had delighted in confusing all of Gotham’s rogues, who couldn’t figure out how Robin could seemingly be in two places at once. Well, all of them except one, and that one had ended up murdering them. 

They never questioned Bruce’s choice to dress Dick and Jason the same. Now it was obvious Robin was just a pawn for Batman. Expendable. 

Replaceable. 

Bruce would probably build a whole Robin army if he could find enough dark-haired orphan boys to do so. He needed to learn. He needed to _suffer._ And so did that little shit who dared to think he could live up to what him and Dickie had been. What they had created. 

Jason tosses his cigarette butt, growling. He wants to blow those fuckers brains out right this instant. 

“Patience Jaybird. We’ll get them soon.”

Because Dickie can always tell exactly what he’s thinking. Jason doesn’t want to be patient though. He wants them dead. 

“They’re coming out. 18th floor balcony.” 

Jason pulls on his helmet and gets up to observe. Dick runs a hand down Jason's spine as he settles beside him, coming to rest on his lower back. Dickie is always like this now. He can’t resist his baser urges any better than Jason can. Only while Jason’s inner impulses are telling him to kill, Dick’s are telling him to _touch_. 

Jason has learned to put up with it by now so he ignores the hand settled decidedly too close to his ass. 

He peers through his helmet’s amplified lenses and zooms in on the tower. Bad guy of the week is on the balcony as Dick had said, hightailing it as Batman pursues him. He doesn’t recognize the villain. They used to know every rogue in Gotham, but he supposes some new ones must have cropped up in their _absence_. The Batman had a tendency for bringing the freaks out. 

“The kid?” he asks. There’s no sign of the motherfucker. 

“No sighting yet, but I’m guessing he's heading towards the rooftop from inside.”

Same tactic Bruce would have had them use back in the day. Because for some reason when idiots got cornered outside a building, they always thought it was better to go _up_. Sure enough as he watches, New Rogue starts scaling the building, climbing to the balcony a story above him. 

_If you made it to the ground you’d have a chance at escape, however minuscule. The rooftop is just a dead end._ Fucking idiots, all of them. 

“He’s not a kid you know,” Dick startles Jason out of his thoughts. 

“What?” he replies, voice gruff. He turns his focus to the rooftop to wait for when the _kid_ will make his appearance. 

“He’s the same age as us, he’s not a kid,” Dick replies matter-of-factly. 

“And how the fuck would you know that?” Jason snarls. He doesn’t really give a fuck how old the kid is. He’s a piece of shit either way. 

“Unlike you, some of us were actually social during our lives. Timmy was always around at those stuffy galas Bruce would drag us to. You never talked to him?” 

Jason hates the condescending edge Dick’s voice had to it, like he knows everything and Jason is an idiot. Green rage swirls within him and he wants to sock Dickie right in his shit-talking mouth but instead he settles for roughly slapping away the hand on his hip. 

The truth was Jason _didn’t_ remember a lot of things about his life. The first one anyways. Everything was tainted in a green fog and memories came to him in bits and pieces. He doesn’t need the constant reminders from Dick about how fucked up he is now. His life had been stolen from him and so had his memories. The whole fucking thing was unfair and Bruce needed to pay for it goddamn it so Dick needed to just quit with his stupid attitude and help Jason fucking kill him already. 

“Shut up! I had no reason to give a shit about him then and I still don’t now. I don’t care his damn age, the little cocksucker is tiny as hell and if he’s rolling with the Bat then that means he doesn’t understand anything about how the world works! He’s a damn kid!”

It feels good to yell. Like a tiny amount of the rage which is damned up inside his body is able to get out, reducing the constant pressure just slightly. He needs more, to release it all. To scream, to punch, to fight - to kill. It’s the only way he’ll be able to get relief from the hell the pit has brought upon him. 

He settles for slapping Dick’s hand away again when he attempts to place it back on Jason’s waist. 

“There he is,” Dick says, as if Jason hadn’t just gone on a tirade. Jason whips his gaze up towards the roof, and sure enough, the new Robin has appeared. He’s completely visible to Dick and Jason, but he’s out of sight of the criminal who now has only one flight left until he reaches the rooftop. 

Jason sees green. That stupid fucker thinks he can be Robin? That he can replace Jason Todd and Dick Grayson? That he can just come in and take their names and their uniforms and their _place_ and not suffer any consequences? Well that smug piece of shit has another thing coming. He’s dead. He’s going to die right here and now. 

His hand reaches into his jacket, unholstering his gun, but when he goes to raise it his arm is blocked. 

“Jason, no. Remember the plan,” Dick tells him.

“Fuck your plan! He needs to die!” 

“And he will.” How is Dick so calm? How is he not completely taken over by rage and bloodlust like Jason is? 

“He needs to die now!” Jason tries to jerk his arm out of Dick’s grasp but the asshole won’t let go.

“You need to calm down Jaybird.” 

That motherfucker, thinking he’s better than Jason. So much smarter and superior. Anyone who stands in the way of him and his revenge needs to go down. The fist not holding his gun makes contact with the center of Dick’s stomach. 

Dick growls, and it’s on now, his own carefully controlled rage being unleashed as well. Jason takes a hit back, but he doesn’t care, he likes the pain. It’s one of the few things that feels real nowadays. One of the few things that reminds him he’s alive. 

Jason tries to bring up his gun but Dick kicks it out of his hand and it goes flying to the other side of the rooftop. When he lunges for it Dick tackles him to the ground. The two of them roll around on the rooftop, getting in punches wherever they can. Jason is growling and screaming out whatever insults he can think of. Dick is yelling back at him but Jason can’t hear anything through the green fog. He regrets that his helmet is preventing him from _biting_ Dick right now, even if it has protected him from a few headshots. He isn’t above playing dirty. Neither is Dick apparently because in the next moment he uses that damn flexibility of his to get his thighs around Jason’s neck and effectively pin him to the ground. 

Jason flails, struggling against the grip, but he can’t get up, and he doesn’t have the right angles to inflict any more damage on Dick. He inhales deeply through his nose, trying to clear the green fog from his mind as Dickie waits him out. 

“We’ve gotta stick to the plan,” the original Robin finally reiterates, calm voice sounding as if he were speaking to a spooked horse and not to his partner in crime who he’d mercilessly pinned to a rooftop. “We will kill him. But not this way. It can’t be quick, Jay. He wants to be a Robin so badly - well as his predecessors it’s up to us to teach him, to give him the full Robin experience. And Robins suffer before they die.”

Jason can picture perfectly the sadistic grin that’s hiding under that blue hood. It’s one Dickie wears a lot these days. One that Jason has grown oddly fond of. 

He wills his body to relax. Dickie’s right. They have a plan and they need to stick to it. He can’t let the pit rage take over. When the green fog has faded from his vision he taps out on Dick’s leg. 

“You’re right. I’ll stick to the plan. Now let me up.” 

“Or we could stay here a little bit longer,” Dick coos out sultrily and thrusts his hips forward towards Jason’s face suggestively. 

Goddamnit. 

“What, you want me to suck you off through my helmet? Get off me you horny son of a bitch.” 

Dick does and Jason finally gets up, shaking out his limbs for a moment before going to retrieve his gun. When he returns Dick is looking up at the tower again. 

“They’re gone,” he says, and Jason mutters a “damnit” under his breath that comes out strangely warped through the hood’s voice filter. 

“It’s okay, we’ve seen enough. It’s time to put our plan into action.” 

Finally he and Dick are in total agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence. Rape.

Jason’s hand twitches towards his holster. It’s empty (Dickie made him leave his guns at home) but he can’t control the impulse. Which is exactly why Dickie made him leave the guns. Timothy Drake would be long dead by now if he hadn’t. 

He rakes his eyes over the kid’s unconscious body, suspended from the ceiling, and his hand twitches towards the holster again. Jason is sitting across the room from him, in one of the Batman’s long abandoned safe-houses in Crime Alley. No one's going to come snooping around even if they do hear a few screams, and doing this in Bruce’s very own home, of a sort, feels like some kind of delicious poetic justice. They’ve stripped most of the room bare (they weren’t about to leave anything for a quick-thinking Robin to use in an escape effort), and the wide empty space is dark and foreboding, lit only by slivers of moonlight. The only things left in the room are the chains the kid is hanging from and this goddamned chair. 

Jason has been banished to the chair, as far away from the kid as possible, by Dick, because when he got any closer he couldn’t seem to help himself from going for the kid’s throat. And they had a plan; one which required the kid to be awake before they started everything so he could actually feel it all. He had felt a bit indigent about being put in a time-out like a child but Dickie had placated him by getting down on his knees in front of the chair and sucking him off. Not that it was hard to get a blowjob from Dick Grayson nowadays. You merely had to breathe in his presence and he’d be begging you to let him suck your cock. It had felt good though, and calmed him for a bit, but now the afterglow had long since worn off and he was getting anxious to start enacting the next phase of their plan. 

His hand twitched towards the holster again. It’s still empty, and he growls. 

“Patience, Red. Look, he’s starting to come around,” Dick informs him as he saunters across the room towards their suspended companion, hips swaying as he moves as if that would somehow tantalize Jason. Jason couldn’t care less about Dick’s seduction games right now. His body tenses and he sits up straight, attention fully focused on their captive. Murderous lust pools in his stomach and he feels his heart rate increasing. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep the green at bay.

Dick was right, the kid is starting to wake up. Actually, he is probably already awake. He’s silent but his muscles flex subtly as he tests the limits of his bonds: something Batman taught him. 

Dick slaps him across the face, hard. 

The kid cries out as his head is forced to the side; he was definitely not expecting that, thinking he still had his captors believing he was unconscious. Jason is up out of his chair and across the room in an instant. He reels back his arm and then slugs it forward into the replacement’s stomach. The kid grunts and Jason sees his muscles tense as if he were trying to curl in on himself, but his body has nowhere to move when it’s strung up like it is, so Jason lands another blow to his exposed stomach. And another. And another. 

He swings his arm back again. When he tries to jab forward this time, his wrist is caught. 

“Tsk tsk, Red Hood. Don’t damage him too much before I’ve had my fun. You can do whatever you’d like to him after.” 

Jason is shaking, green clouding his vision, but he tries to remember _the plan_ that he agreed to. They’ll both have a chance to get their revenge. He’s gotta let Dickie get his turn too. 

He rips his arm out of Dick’s grasp forcefully with a scoff, but he takes a step back away from the kid. A little distance will help him regain control. 

“Whatever Blue Hood. Just, whatever you’re gonna do, do it quick. I’ve been waiting too long for this.” Even when he’s being agreeable he still has to get defensive. He’ll show no weakness in front of the ass wipe who replaced him. 

“No, Red. I think I’m going to take my sweet time with him.” Dick’s voice is dripping with innuendo, and Jason sees the kid tense again as he weighs the possible implications of that statement. 

He’s a trained Robin though, even if he’s just a shitty excuse of a replacement, so an instant later his body is relaxed with absolutely no fear visible. If they hadn’t been trained by the Bat themselves they probably would have missed any signs of his distress. They _were_ trained though, so they can tell the cocky grin that spreads across his face next is all faked bravado.

“So you’re Red Hood and you’re Blue Hood… where are the orange, yellow, and green hoods at? What, you don’t have a whole rainbow squad?” the kid laughs out, voice a bit rough from Jason’s hold on his windpipe earlier. He’s trying to provoke them into an argument. Another Bat tactic. 

Jason punches him in the mouth. He loves the way the kid cries out in genuine pain. 

“Even got the snarky quips down, huh? You really are a Robin-wannabe. Too bad you’ll never be as good as the original!” Dick sneers as he steps up to give his own fist a turn acquainting itself with Timmy’s face. 

Blood flows from the kid's lip now, somewhat profusely. Jason is fascinated by the drip of it down onto the yellow collar of his uniform. Had his been stained like that before he died? It probably had, but the details are fuzzy to him, lost in a green haze. The only thing he remembers clearly is that _clown_ and the ice-cold sense of dread. He wants the replacement to feel that too. 

Despite the blows and the busted lip, Timmy’s trying hard to keep his confident smirk in place. Jason can see right through it. Replacement’s getting scared now. He can tell the Hoods aren’t just another dime a dozen rogue who’s going to keep Robin tied up yet safe from any serious harm until Batman can show up to save the day. No, they are going to hurt him and neither he nor the Batman are going to be able to stop them. Jason lands another blow to his stomach just to drive home the point. 

He loves the way the replacement grunts against the pain. Jason wants to hear him call out more. To make him apologize and beg. Not that begging will do him any good. 

He reels his arm back for another punch, but Dick stops him again. 

“Help me get him down.” 

Right. The plan. Dickie gets to go first. 

Jason watches the replacement. He’s not very good at hiding his tells yet. Unsurprising that he would be inferior. Jason can read exactly what’s going through his mind. He’s thinking that this is his opportunity. That once they take him down he’ll be able to fight and escape. Oh how wrong he’s about to be proven. 

Jason and Dick are not idiots. They were trained by the Bat too; they know where to look for openings. So they’ve also prepared to remove any such openings for the shitface wearing their costume. 

Dickie pulls an escrima stick out from behind him. Replacement eyes it warily, probably thinking Blue Hood means to hit him with it. He’s half right. 

Dick swings the stick full-force into his stomach creating a delicious whacking sound that is music to Jason’s ears and knocking the wind out of little Timmy. But that’s not all. Once the escrima makes contact Dick pushes a button and lightning strikes. 

The replacement's body convulses fiercely and the kid finally _screams_. God it’s a delicious sound. Exactly what Jason’s been wanting to hear. 

Dick keeps the juice on him for a few long moments. When he finally pulls the stick away the kid’s whole body goes slack. Occasionally Jason sees a muscle still twitching, involuntarily. Even if they untie him the replacement isn’t going anywhere now. 

“Ew!” Dickie cries out, jabbing at a dark spot on the kids crotch with his powered-down escrima stick. “He pissed himself! Unbelievable.” 

The kid whimpers and tries to pull away, but his muscles won’t cooperate. 

“Well, you did electrocute him.” Jason isn’t defending the replacement. He just wants to piss Dick off. It’s always been one of his favorite pastimes. 

Dick lets out an annoyed huff but mostly ignores him, instead diving forward and grabbing at the kid’s waistband, tugging the green pants down, as well as his underwear. The kid struggles, but in his current state that doesn’t count for much. 

“S-stop!” he stammers out. An excited shiver runs through Jason’s body; Replacement is definitely scared now. Dick ignores him, just continues pulling the bottom half of the soiled Robin suit off and tosses it across the room in disgust, leaving the replacement hanging there with his sad excuse for a dick out. 

“Why are you doing this? What do you wa-ah!” 

The kid gasps as Dick pokes and prods at his genitals with his escrima stick. He slides it under his soft cock and lifts it up, ignoring Replacement’s cries, to examine it. 

“Smaller than I expected,” he says. The replacement gives an indigent whine in the back of his throat, but Jason knows the comment was aimed at himself and Dickie's waiting for a reply. 

“Yeah, small as shit. He is the _boy_ wonder after all. Probably hasn't hit puberty yet. Hey what do you think would happen if you ran the juice through that stick of yours while it’s up against his nuts?” 

The replacement lets out a distressed sob while Dick cocks his head and shifts the kid's sack around with the end of his stick as if considering it. 

“Don’t. Please. Just tell me what you want.” 

The replacement was begging already. That was no fun. Jason had been looking forward to the challenge of breaking him. They still had a long way to go though; if he was already begging now Jason wasn’t sure how he’d make it through the rest of the night. They were going to destroy the son of a bitch.

Dick made eye contact with him and they nodded. Jason knew Dick was anxious to get onto the next step. He was too. The sooner he could present the replacement’s corpse to the Batman, the better. 

Jason pulled out a knife and got to work on the rest of the replacement’s clothes. It was very tempting to just reach up and pull it across the kid’s jugular, but he fought down the urge. He wasn’t gentle about the removal though, and he grinned at the sight of the long bloody lines trailing over the kid’s chest when Dick finally pulled all of the cloth away. Timmy’s bare chest was rising and falling rapidly. Jason wondered if he was going to have a panic attack. 

It only got worse a moment later when Dickie reached for the kid’s mask. 

“No! The mask stays. Please, just let me know what you want. Don’t touch me!” the replacement cried out as Dick reached for him. He tried to jerk his head out of reach, but there was nowhere for it to go. 

Typical bat-brat. He resisted harder against the removal of his mask than of the rest of his clothes. Maintaining the Bat’s secret identity is the most important thing after all, even more important than Robin’s own dignity. Jason scoffs. He wants to cut that mask of his face with his knife. 

“Relax, little Timmy,” Dick purrs, and Jason can hear the sadistic grin that is spread across his face under the hood, “we already know who you are. So you don’t have to worry about mean old Brucie getting mad at you for revealing his secrets.”

The replacement gasps. Dick gets his fingers under the edge of the mask and rips it off with a rough flourish of his arm. They see the kids eyes for the first time. They look damp. It looks good on him. 

The green-tinged pressure in Jason’s chest lightens. 

He and Dick work on getting the kid down then. For his part, the kid is still trying the engagement tactics Bruce taught him. He keeps trying to get them to talk, asking who they are, how they know about him and Bruce, what they are planning to do to him. Jason and Dick know the strategy though. They have no plans to start monologuing. The kid will shut up soon enough, once Dickie starts having his fun with him. 

They retie his hands up behind his back (knot out of reach in case the kid does manage to get finger mobility back, and metal cables, not rope, he won’t be cutting through these anytime soon), and toss him down, laying face-up in the middle of the room. Jason can see his eyes darting around frantically, looking for any tool he can use to help him escape. He’ll find none: Dick and Jason have already made sure of that. The replacement is truly helpless. Just like Jason and Dickie had been against the sadistic motherfucker that Bruce had let live. 

“I’m going to fuck you now.” 

Dick gives no preamble as he positions himself between the replacement’s legs and whips out his cock. He’s already fully hard, because of course he is, he’s Dickie. 

Jason laughs as he sees the helpless little replacement struggle in earnest now. Unfortunately for him his muscles still haven’t recovered from their earlier shock. He’s weak and powerless. Jason makes sure to point out as much as Dick grabs his hips firmly and pulls the kid back towards him. The kid’s crying now. It’s beautiful. Jason's sure the kid never suspected something like _this_ happening when he'd signed up to be Robin. He and Dickie hadn't expected what had happened to them either. 

Dickie pushes his cock in, all the way to the base: no lubrication, no preparation. Replacement screams and thrashes but Dickie gives him no solace. He starts fucking rapidly into the sorry excuse for a body that is the new Robin. Jason drinks in the fucker’s distress. He’s begging for Dickie to stop, sobbing and shaking and exhausting all his words until the only thing coming out of his mouth is a quiet string of “no, no, no, no,” punctuated by another sob every time Dick gives a particularly rough thrust. And none of his thrusts are gentle. 

Dickie, for his part, isn’t silent either. He lets that little piece of shit know exactly what he thinks of him.

“You mother fucker. You little cunt! This is all you're good for, you know that? You’re no hero. You’re no Robin. You’re nothing but a tight little cunt for me to fuck, isn’t that right? You feel my cock in your pussy? That’s your purpose. To keep my dick warm. You disgusting piece of shit. How dare you? How dare you think you could be Robin? You are nothing. Nothing more than a worthless hole to fuck. Never forget that, you undeserving trash.” 

Jason’s mesmerized by Dickie and the gorgeous way he rages and screams. His hips are still thrusting wildly, pounding roughly into the replacement and eliciting a string of broken sobs as the kid tries to recoil from Dick’s words. Crazy looks good on Dickie. Jason feels a familiar warmth low in his stomach as he watches him tearing the replacement in two with his cock. He briefly debates going over and joining them: it would be fun to fuck Dickie while he’s inside the replacement. 

Now isn’t his turn though, so he can wait. He’s proven over the past few weeks that he is nothing _but_ patient. If he wasn’t, Batman would have had a bullet in his head the moment Jason had arrived in Gotham. 

Jason wants to know how Bruce would react if he were here now; how he would feel to see his little birdy being stuffed full. Dickie’s thrusts are getting rougher now, each one shoving the kid forward across the floor. The replacement has finally given up on his begging, a choked out cry escaping him with each jerk of his body instead. Maybe Bruce would have begged them to stop too. Jason imagines the look of horror that would be on B’s face and it brings a twisted smile to his own. He wishes they had thought to include Batman in this part of the plan, even if it would have made it riskier. 

He wonders how Bruce would feel if he could see his new little replacement Robin getting raped. 

He wonders how Bruce felt when he saw what the Joker had done to them…

Jason growls, ripping the thought from his mind. Thinking of Bruce never does anything good for him; all it ever does is bring that green cloud back over his vision. He returns his focus to the scene at hand.

Dickie seems to be almost done now. He’s still screaming obscenities at the kid, some of them unintelligible in the harshness of his pants and tired throat, but Jason hears something about a “cum dumpster,” which he knows means the kid will soon become one. Dickie was never one for subtlety. 

Sure enough, it isn’t long before Dick’s hips break from their rhythm to give a few deep, purposeful thrusts. Then he’s pulling out and spurting his cum all over the replacement, coating the kid’s flaccid cock, stomach, and chest with it. The very last spurt makes it far enough to hit his chin. Jason notices that Dick’s cock is covered in blood and it stirs something within him, more of that insidious pressure being released. The little birdy must be hurting. 

The kid’s face is streaked with tears, hiccuping sobs still escaping him, but Jason can see his body visibly relax. Timmy thinks that it’s over now. Oh how wrong he is. 

Despite just cumming, Dickie’s cock is still fully engorged and sticking upright, ready for more. He grabs the replacement and flips him over roughly, eliciting a startled cry from the kid. He wastes no time in pulling his hips up and lining his cock up with that abused hole again. 

“Wait, no, please, please! You can’t! Please, no-” 

Dickie thrusts in. 

The kid’s screams are like a beautiful choir to Jason’s ears. He drags the time-out chair over from the corner and settles in for a long show.


	3. Chapter 3

There is a gun held up against Replacement’s head. 

One little twitch of a finger, that’s all it will take to blow his brains out. Oh how satisfying it will be, especially now that they finally have an audience. The great and fearsome Batman is here with them, standing just a few feet away near the window of the old safehouse he’d tracked them down to. The location they’d led him to. They were the ones who had set up this little rendezvous. Everything they’ve done has been leading to this moment, when they can finally get their revenge on the Batman. On Bruce. Who had let them die like it was nothing, and so easily replaced them. Jason can’t wait to see his expression when they splatter Replacement’s brains all over this room. 

His finger twitches. 

He isn’t the one holding the gun though. That is Dickie’s job. If it was Jason’s, the kid would already be gone. The replacement will die though, but not from a bullet. That would be too quick. Too merciful. No, Replacement is going to suffer, just like they had. And this time Bruce is going to watch. He’s going to come face to face with the results his actions have had on his little Robbins. He is going to learn, and he is going to _pay_. If Jason has his way, the Batman won’t be leaving this alive either. 

“Let him go!” 

Jason laughs at the demand. As if three little words from Batman would be all it took for them to give up and undo all their hard work. There’s irony too in the fact that Jason is pretty sure Replacement would collapse to the floor immediately if Dickie _did_ let him go. The wrist and ankle cuffs are mostly just for show. If Dick wasn’t holding Replacement’s body firmly up in front of him he’s sure the kid wouldn’t be able to support himself. The kid is _weak_ , body destroyed after what Dickie had done to him. And now that Dickie had gotten his, it was finally Jason’s turn. And oh is he going to enjoy it. 

“No, _Bruce_. I don’t think we will. Not yet anyways.”

A feral grin spreads across his face at the way his former mentor's body stiffens at the revelation. It’s hard to get a visceral reaction out of the Batman. Yes, the Batman is starting to get scared now. It’s not just his little Robin that has been compromised, but his precious secret identity as well. Jason wonders which he is more concerned with. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” he growls out. Trying to mask the fear with anger. He can’t hide it from Jason though. 

“We want you to suffer. Like we did,” Jason replies coldly, loving the way he can see Batman gritting his teeth. 

“To start off we’re going to play a little game. It’s a fun one, really,” Jason pulls the crowbar out from behind his back as he speaks, “It’s called ‘forehand or backhand.’” 

Yes, Jason does not begrudge Dickie taking away his gun right now, because he has _this_ instead. He takes a moment to admire the way the crowbar seems to shimmer in the pale moonlight flooding in through the window. He runs a finger down the length of it gingerly, making a show for Bruce, giving time for his implication to set in. Jason knows how to do this part. He’d had first hand experience learning from the best. 

“So, what’ll it be Bats?” he asks, running the smooth metal of the crowbar tenderly across the side of the replacement’s cheek, “Forehand, or backhand?” 

The boy shivers and tries to lean away from the crowbars’ smooth touch across his skin. Jason shivers too, from excitement. It feels the same way it does before having a really good orgasm; he can feel the pressure mounting inside him, fueled by green haze, but he knows that with just a little bit more, the right thrust, the right stroke, or the right bullet to the replacement’s skull, it will be enough to finally push him over the edge and give him that sweet sweet release he is desperately craving. 

“Your quarry is with me, let the boy go,” Bruce demands. Oh Bruce. Always so self-sacrificing. Except, of course that is, when he was letting his first two sidekicks die. 

“Bruce, Bruce, Bruce,” he chastises him, “you really are no fun. Do you have to spoil our game on top of everything else too?

“Besides. Little Timmy here is no boy. Not anymore. Blue took care of that for him. Congrats, your boy wonder is a man now.”

Jason revels in the fury that radiates from Batman at his not so subtle implication. The replacement shakes his head weakly, as if to deny it, but Jason knows Bruce knows he is telling the truth. His little Robin has been tainted. 

Batman’s hand goes for his belt, so quickly a normal adversary wouldn’t notice, but Jason and Dick know Batman’s tells well, especially now when rage is making him sloppy. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Dickie yells out at him, shoving the gun harder into Replacement’s hair as a warning. He kid winces against it. “Take off the belt and toss it here. You make one wrong move and the kid is dead. You were right, our problem is with you. Tim means nothing to us, so it will also mean nothing to us if we have to off him. Got it?” 

Bruce freezes. He looks back and forth between Dick’s gun, Jason’s crowbar, and the replacement’s tear-stained face, and seems to decide they are serious. The caped crusader undoes his belt and tosses it across the room at their feet. Jason sees his hands shaking as he does it. Good.

“If you hurt him… you _will pay_ for it later. I promise you.” Bruce tries to threaten them. Jason laughs. 

“Like you made the Joker pay? If killing two of your Robins lands him a nice cell in Arkham, what will one land us? A day in holding?” Jason loves the small hint of shock that makes itself known on Bruce’s face every time Jason gives him a crumb. He can see Bruce’s mind firing, trying to piece things together. Jason doesn’t think it’ll take him much longer to figure them out. He’s always been painfully perceptive. It’s something Jason used to admire about him. 

“Who are you?” the Batman growls out at them again. Jason doesn’t think he’s actually expecting a confession but rather is trying to distract them from hurting his baby Robin until he can figure something out. Jason isn’t going to give him the time. 

“Well, since you won’t decide, I guess we’ll have to try both. Then we can ask Timmy which hurts more.” 

“No-!” Bruce screams out but Jason is already swinging. Forehand first, because that was the one he’d always found most painful. Especially when it was breaking his ribs. 

Replacement lets out a muffled scream behind his gag, body trying to curl in on itself defensively. He can’t move much with his arms cuffed behind him and Dickie holding him upright. All signs indicate that replacement agrees with Jason’s thoughts about the broken ribs thing though. 

He wishes they hadn’t gagged him, that he could hear his full screams. Unfortunately, it had turned out that the stupid piece of shit was not actually as dumb as he looked. They’re pretty sure he’d pieced together who they were. Though to be fair, Dickie’s taunts had not been that subtle; it wouldn’t take a genius to guess their identities after some of the things he’d said. Either way, they didn’t want him to spoil the fun by cluing Bruce in too early, so they’d had to gag him to be safe. Jason is annoyed by it now though. He wants to hear the fucker scream louder. He’ll just have to do better on his backhand. 

It goes over well. They definitely come out louder. Jason isn’t sure if that’s because his backhand is better, or if it just hurts more to get hit in the ribs after they're already broken than it does to break them in the first place. 

Bruce is screaming now too, begging them to stop. Who knew a couple crowbar hits to a Robin’s ribs would be all it took to get the Dark Knight to beg. It was kind of cute. It was kind of pathetic. 

Jason keeps swinging. Forehand. Scream. Backhand. Scream. It’s cathartic. Each cry eases the pain inside him, bringing him one step closer to that release. 

Time for forehand again. He decides to shake things up. Variety is the spice of life after all. On the next swing he goes for a knee cap. The resulting scream is beautiful, and the replacement crumbles forward. Dickie’s still holding him up though, so he can’t collapse completely, his weight being forced onto the busted leg and eliciting a small, constant string of cries.

Backhand. He goes for the opposite femur. The crowbar makes a delicious _whack_ sound as it makes contact, and replacement grunts and whimpers. Jason didn’t think he heard the bone crack though, so he repeats the swing a few more times until he hears that satisfying _crunch._ The kid screams properly again too; Jason feels light. That one probably hurt a lot, especially since Dick is still holding him up. He’s pretty sure the replacement’s weight is entirely hanging from Dick’s grip now. Those pathetic little legs are definitely no good anymore. 

Jason remembers how it feels- being unable to walk. He remembers painstakingly crawling across the floor towards the door, dragging Dickie along with him, only to find it locked. Only to find a timer counting down the last seconds to their deaths. Replacement doesn’t know it yet, but his timer is already counting down too. It won’t be long until he’s saying goodbye to this world. 

“So, do we have a verdict?” Jason asks the miserable broken mess in front of him. The replacement doesn’t answer and just keeps crying instead. It’s disgraceful. 

“I didn’t cry you know,” he tells him, giving him another gentle nudge in the ribs with the end of his crowbar to accentuate the point, “I didn’t give that fucker the satisfaction. You really are a sad excuse for a Robin, Replacement.”

“No… you can’t be,” Bruce isn’t crying, Jason is pretty sure the man may be physically incapable, but his voice is somewhere damn near it. It seems he’s finally heard enough to piece it together. Jason's disappointed it took him this long. 

Looks like it's time to reveal themselves. Besides, he’s getting anxious. He wants to end this. To take out the replacement and Bruce and this horrible green that constantly plagues him, and to finally be free again. To finally _live_ again. 

He takes off his helmet and stares into Bruce’s cowl. 

“Jason… How…?” he dares to speak Jason’s name with reverence. As if he had given a shit about him. 

“And you… you’re…” he turns toward Dick, staring up at him as if he can already see through his mask, “Show me.”

They look at each other for a moment, then Dickie finally nods. He hands the replacement off to Jason, freeing a hand so he can lift his helmet as well. 

It all goes to shit then. 

There’s one second, _one second_ , when the replacement is being shifted between their grips, that the muzzle of the gun is not lined up with his head. One _fucking_ second. But that is all it takes. Batman has been waiting for an opening, any opening, no matter how small. Apparently the revelation that his first two sons are alive is still not enough to distract him from the fucking piece of shit replacement. Either that or he’d already pieced their identities together long ago and had just been playing them to create the opening himself. Jason would never be sure.

Two Batarangs fly. The first hits Dick’s hand, knocking the gun from his grasp. The second tears across Jason’s throat. 

The replacement falls from his grip in a tumble of screams and broken limbs as Jason releases him to grasp at the gash. He can hear the sounds of a scuffle beside him, most likely Bruce and Dick going at it, but Jason can’t pay attention to anything other than the river of blood streaming down his neck. He feels dizzy and falls to the ground, gasping for air. 

A hysterical laugh gurgles out of his throat, punctuated by a gush of blood. It's too ironic. It wasn’t enough that Bruce had let their killer live. No, now Bruce has ended his life again, by his own hands. He’s killed the son whom he refused to kill for. 

And somehow, despite the pain of that knowledge, as he loses consciousness he finally feels some of that green start to fade away. 


End file.
